The Angel of Britain
by Ships are worth your pain
Summary: Greg Lestrade has been hearing a voice, an Angel helping him solving cases but he has never expected it to be the British Government... Mystrade! and Johnlock in the background.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock nor PTO, nor any of the characters. I merely own this story.

Notes and warnings: I am French so be so kind as to excuse or bring to my attention any mistakes I have made. Don't read this if you don't like Mystrade. Rate T because some torture scenes might happen later (not detailed in any kind, but better to prevent any complaints).

Greg had just arrived to the Yard. He was a simple police officer, but it had always been his dream to work in this emblematic place, and there he was… Right in front of the New Scotland Yard. That was fucking amazing, he thought. He was hardly realizing his efforts had paid and he was assigned to a job he wouldn't have dreamt of a few months ago… The simplistic task of obeying the orders of the DS in place was still a great honour to him, and he wouldn't have exchanged his place for any other commanding officer post in the world, as long as it was not in the famous and exciting place called Scotland Yard. He quickly texted his brother, sending him a picture of the place: "Told you I would make it, silly brother". David was going to be so happy for him. He hadn't told anyone yet, lest it should reveal to be a mistake, after all, why had he been chosen? He completed his duties well enough at his former office, with the paperwork and the true work, but he had only been working in a suburb of Northern London, nothing that impressive.

Suddenly getting back to reality, Greg stepped into his new workplace and got to the office of his superior. He was soon assigned a few basic tasks, obviously to test him.


	2. Greg meets an angel

Months, years later, nothing had really changed. He was becoming acquainted with the system of the Yard, and was still absolutely proud of working there, now as a Detective Sergeant. They were currently working on a case of rapt, and evidences were hard to collect and put together. The DI seemed at a loss, and the whole staff was secretly thinking they had come to a dead end. Greg was staying late that night, worrying and trying to get things to make sense into his mind. He had closed his eyes, and he was clenching his fists, frustrated, when he heard a voice, slightly mocking:

"Well, Greg, staying late tonight? You know supplement hours shall not be paid…"

It was a posh yet amused voice, one he had never heard before. Greg had thought the office was empty at that hour… He looked at his watch: 00.15 am. Not a proper hour to hang about in the Yard, especially when the DI himself was gone.

"Donovan, is it you?" he barked.

Receiving no answer, he called again, slightly annoyed

"Anderson? Dimmock? Who is silly enough to spy on me? Nothing interesting to see, really…"

The voice answered, and Greg noticed it was coming from the micro of the CCTV

"Haven't you ever been told it is not polite to insult people you haven't ever met?" Still the hue of mockery, of gentle and warm mockery was there. "Besides, I think it is most interesting to spy on you…" Wait, was there an innuendo there or was he getting mad?

"How would you know?" Greg entered the game

"Because I am the Angel of Britain…"

"Really? And how is it you're called, angel?" It was most definitely Dimmock. Who else would be so interested in him? He had noticed a few weeks ago the loçnging glances the other DS threw at him from times to times, and Greg had realized he might be… interested in going in a relationship with him. Which was most flattering, and almost tempting, but Greg was married… Although his marriage was not so happy as it had once been… Shaking his head to get rid of these parasite thoughts, Greg sighed and got back to what his angel, yes definitely Dimmock, was saying.

"Do you really think I'm going to give it to you? If you want my help in this case" the voice was becoming more business like "you will have to accept my remaining anonymous"

"Wait, Angie, you said case?" Greg was growing more interested.

"Yes, why else would I be speaking to you?" the voice seemed genuinely surprised.

"I dunno… Cos' you're Dimmock?"

"I am not your colleague" Angel sounded quite annoyed by this second mention of the man. "Although it appears you would have preferred me to be so"

Was Angie… Offended? Greg would have to think about that later.

"C'mon, phantom, tell me what you've been intending to…" Greg softened his voice a bit, trying to make the unknown man comfortable again.

"Well,…" His voice was soft, too… "I know this rapt case is at a dead end, but you can find more evidence in the child's chamber: the man who kidnapped him left footprints. And he is closer than you can imagine… I need you to fix it before dawn."

"Are you ordering me now? Are you in charge of the Yard or something like that?"

The fact it could be the DI or even his superiors occurred to him, and he thought he had not made too much a fool of himself.

"I am HELPING you." The earnestness in his voice was proof enough for Greg, whose instinct told him he could trust this man with his life.

"Well, in that case thanks. How can I help you back?

"Letting me talk to you again? I'll be back next week, same place, same hour…" He sounded truly enthusiastic about it, though trying to hide it. Greg decided not to embarrass the man who had probably saved the life of a child.

"Until next week, can I have a name to call you?"

"My intervention must remain entirely unknown, Gregory. Until next week, I quite like how Angel sounds…" The slight note of amusement was back.

"Goodbye, Angel."

He was already gone.


	3. Pub introspection

Hi, it's me again, with an update at last! Sorry for my lateness, but I've had to work for my exams and problems with my computer (could have helped having a sonic screwdriver ^^) So there should be much less times before my next update, sorry again ;)

Warning: There be drunk people here.

* * *

Chapter 2: Pub introspection

« Cos' you know, Meg, I never really thought she would do that. She would threaten me, send me to sleep on the sofa, but I never, ever thought she would REALLY leave me… Dammit, I wasn't even surprised when she told me she had cheated on me with the PE teacher, but I hoped she was telling me so to say sorry, to apologize and beg me to start everything once more »

Greg's voice was getting less and less clear, which was in a way the aim of that evening. Meg Giry, his best friend, had taken him to the pub to make him forget his recent break up with his wife.

« And she had to do it just at the moment everything was fine at work… Greg Lestrade, hero of the Lannister kidnapping, getting drunk because his wife has left him… » Greg went on, half shouting half weeping.

« Come on, Greg, everything isn't that bad… »

« She told me » he followed not listening to a word Meg had said « I worked too much. I think it's that bloody case that made me earn all this publicity that was the ultimate push she needed to get rid of me."

" I am quite pitiful, am I not?" he added wryly after a pause.

"Listen, Greg. I know you didn't love her that much. It's all pride, mate! If you remember, you told me 2 weeks ago you didn't even mind she was sleeping with another man. Plus now you're back on the market, and we are going to find you someone to rebound!" Meg wasn't just a little drunk also.

"Who would have me? Listen." He started speaking a little less loud. "I think I might have gone mad…"

"What?! Seriously, there's no point in getting mad. After all, a break up could happen to everyone…"

"No no no, not that. I've been hearing…" His voice became even more secretive. "Angels"

"What the fuck are you saying? Come on, back to my flat, you must have had a little too much tonight…"

"Well, more precisely, I've heard one Angel once. A voice right from the heavens…"

"Wait there, Greg. Were you… under the influence of illicit substances?" Meg asked, uncertain.

"No, I'm in the fucking Met, how could I be?" Greg was quite annoyed, seeing Meg wouldn't listen properly. Plus he had been thinking about it. Late hours, stress, his wife having an affair… He was quite aware this could lead to hallucinations. But still, how could he have heard a voice telling him the key to his current case? Subconscious, that sort of things… Yet he had had to admit it: he WANTED this meeting to have been real.

"No, couldn't have imagined it… It seemed real, and I know how a hallucination appears."

"So a bloke talked to you through the door or something like that, if I understand well."

"Quite right. That is, I heard a chap talking to me and he helped me in this bloody case. Yes, the one that got my wife leaving me and me promoted to DI…"

Greg was back to his former mood, complaining and drinking. But Meg was now as attentive as could be after this evening.

"It doesn't seem like you, that… You know" she tried to reason him "angels don't really exist."

"Of course they don't. I'm not THAT drunk, you know. Yet, he can't know, Angie, but… When I was but a child, my father used to say that "l'ange de la Grande-Bretagne" would always look after us. He meant the PM, my dad, so confident in the government, but that man, he called himself the Angel of Britain… Yes, the Angel of Britain has visited me at last!" he added ironically.

"Just… You call him Angie?" Meg remained dumbfounded.

"Why wouldn't I? Met him for 5 minutes, helped me solve a case, I think I'm allowed to give him a nickname!"

"Ok, fine for the moment, but we're not finished with that topic… Just occurred to me"

She took a plotting tone "What if he WAS the PM? Or a member of the government?"

"Fuck, you're kidding me! I think I should have recognized his voice, I've seen him on TV… Yet he still could be one of those mysterious unofficial shush-it's-top-secret men…"

"And what if he was the child's kidnapper?"

"Nope, didn't sound like that."

"What…"

"I don't know, I just sort of happen to have an instinct on those matters… Most of the time, the only thing lacking is proof… And he gave me that." Greg sounded grateful and thoughtful, and he was quite at a loss indeed. Who was this man, why did he know that and why on earth would he tell HIM, of all the staff included?

"You don't happen to fancy him, do you?" Meg was amused by his suddenly changing features, which had become softer when speaking of his Angel. "He could be dangerous, you know!"

"Course not! Well, maybe a little. Dangerous, I mean, not me fancying him" He blushed, and knew Meg had seen it. After all, she knew he was interested in men as well as women, and that being split with his wife… Well, he would start being on the watch again. "Come on, I have only heard his voice! How could I, even if I wanted to?"

"Oh, I knew it! You fancy that Angel of yours! And what will happen when you meet him?"

Greg darkened again.

"Suppose we'll never know. I shan't meet him. Can't. Won't. He doesn't want to reveal his identity."

"Well, you've only just met, after all…"

Here there was a pause, and Greg was already thinking about how he could bring his Angel to meet him for real.

"So, you call him Angie? …"


	4. Greg negotiates (or at least he tries)

Chapter 3 : Greg negotiates (or at least he tries)

Here he was at last. The week that had elapsed was nothing but the most beautiful nightmare he ever had. His meeting with his personal angel, his promotion, his break up… That was a bit too much for seven days, wasn't it? But now, it was midnight again at the office. This time, nobody had been silly enough to ask him why he stayed so late: as DI, he had discovered that paperwork as a DS was a simple walk beside the river compared to… that pile of documents and … things he had to fill and sign… It simply had no end. But that was not the reason he stayed. Well, he would have anyway, but tonight was the appointed day of his meeting with his Angel.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so sure about his excitement for the event he had been waiting for all week: what if Angie had changed his mind? What if he never wanted to speak to him again? What if he had never intended to follow their alliance? What if it was a one-time thing? What if…

"Hello, Gregory."

All his uncertainties vanished suddenly when he heard that voice, and it seemed like satin against his skin just to be listening to him.

"Hi, Angie!"

He hoped he didn't sound too eager, maybe that would scare his Angel off. By the way, when exactly had he started referring to that man as _his_ Angel?

"You look tired."

Angel was trying to sound indifferent, but Greg hoped the slight worry he had perceived was for real.

"Why, thank you…"

"It suits you."

Wait a minute, was Angie implying that he'd like to tire him? There was no way this was an innuendo and not the fantasy of his own devious mind, was there?

"… Well, I wanted to thank you! You know, you helped us and the family will never know who to thank that for, but what you did was great anyway."

"Immaterial. I had the occasion to help some of my co-citizens and there is no wonder I did it."

"Yes, that's coz' you're a good man."

"…" Greg could swear that if he could see his Angel right now, he would be blushing.

"And I was promoted DI thanks to you, you know."

"I was informed of this consequence. I offer you my congratulations, as well as my condolences for the unfortunate repercussions on your personal life."

"So you control CCTV and you were informed of a promotion that was made public this morning… Who exactly are you?"

What's more, that meant his Angel spied on his love life… But that was good, very good indeed.

"Gregory" His voice sounded like that which is usually used for impatient and spoiled children. "I thought we had already discussed that. My identity shall remain secret, and before you ask, no, I will not reveal you my name, whatever motive you declare."

Why had this "we" to sound so delicious?

"Just how did you know that was my next question?!"

"That was quite simple to determine. The stiffness in your shoulders suggested you were about to tackle an issue of some importance and the way your eyes went from the camera to your desk that you thought you were going to face reluctance, yet it was important enough that you decided to try anyway, and you have obviously been very straightforward since the beginning of our acquaintance."

Okay, lesson number 1 of the evening: never underestimate an angel. They may have wings but they are so cunning and intelligent (and have a gorgeous voice, don't forget that) and they know about everything concerning us, poor earthlings basking in their glory.

"… Wow… I suppose everybody who has ever met you has already told you, but you're amazing…" Greg said in awe.

"This particular aspect of my personality was never brought to my knowledge, however I am glad you are appreciative of such a simple deduction. But I am afraid it would be expected of me to show my satisfaction by soothing your very legitimate curiosity, which is not in my power."

Greg took a long breath, trying to calm the overwhelming fear that had taken him. He really didn't want to lose his Angel because of his well-known inability to control his emotions.

"So I have to say thanks for your help and farewell?" Well, maybe that _was_ a little over-eager.

"If you would wish so… I had thought our partnership could extend to future cases where my help might be useful, but if so is your will, it will be surrendered to."

"Is that a posh way to say: let's work together?" Hope had risen in Greg's heart, and there was no way it would not be broken if this was taken from him.

"I fancy it could be expressed like that… I had considered giving you some information I might have better access to and help you improve your observation skills." The hint of amusement that seemed to be characteristic of Angie's mood when speaking to Greg was back.

"Then that's a bloody big yes. You don't realize how helpful and wonderful you are, do you?"

"…"

Oh, that was the silent blush again…

"Then let's say each week, same time, same place, except if you actually have another place where you can talk to me, and I want the right to some extra consultations if there's an important case." Greg was not so naïve as to let his Angel be off with an immaterial promise.

"Your wish is my command…"

"Is there absolutely no chance I'll ever see you for real?"

"You'll hear me, that's more than most people get…" Greg genuinely hoped he wasn't imagining the regret that voice conveyed in those few words.

"Fuck! I mean that's disappointing…"

A few moments of silence passed, neither men wanting to end the conversation.

"Anyway, I very much look forward to our next encounter, and you'll be my personal tutor then…"

If he had expressed this fantasy out loud, this was utter shite…

"And I look forward to teaching you many things…"

Maybe this was okay, if the fantasy was shared…

"Good night, Gregory, and until next week…"

The voice was already gone when Greg whispered: "If I had a TARDIS, all I would do is go right here, in seven days time…"


	5. Mycroft gets protective

Chapter 4 : Mycroft gets protective

In the name of the Bard, what had he done? Had he really agreed to weekly meetings with a copper? To… He barely dared to even think of it… Teach him how to investigate in the Holmes manner… On the other hand, it was HIS cop. Gregory Lestrade was his, whatever stupid laws had passed concerning owning human beings during the XIXth century, the witty, dashing man was his.

How had it all started again? Yes… He'd been concerned about the Met's efficiency for quite some time, and he'd been having an eye on the ones who kept an eye on the city. The guardians of the citizens… And there had been this energetic, good-looking copper, with hints of grey in his dark hair, investigating with an unusual recklessness. Those beautiful chocolate brown eyes of his had done the rest, and Mycroft hadn't been able to help trying to give him some advice concerning his current case.

But he had got emotionally involved, and that was not good for his work…

Mycroft sighed, trying to relax in his personal armchair at the Diogenes club, the only place where he could possibly try to think properly between two meetings, between a war and a minister to fire. But today, nothing seemed to be able to lead his thoughts away from the mysterious DI, who could trust a voice and find a murderer with the same ease Mycroft never seemed to reach.

But Mycroft would never be able to reveal his identity to Greg: his job couldn't allow it. As strong as his desire to get more acquainted with the man was, it could not trespass the boundaries set by The Work.

He was going to have to satisfy himself with a few conversations and, hopefully, that would be enough for his Gregory too. Anyway, he wasn't going to let him decide on what would satisfy him. Soon to be divorced, there was the risk that he would be the target of the young women (and men) whom Mycroft had seen eyeing the recently promoted DI on the CCTV. But a few threats and some, let us say unfortunate circumstances should discourage those attempts.

Now he just had to make a phone call, and all would be settled to ascertain that the man who had seemed to control so utterly and skilfully their second conversation would be under his protection.

"Hello, Anthea Giry, it's MH. Would you be so kind as to improve Gregory Lestrade's security to level 3? And from now on, I want a report about his career, cases and personal life, including who tries to befriend him, every day on my desk. Understood?"

His business-like voice, now that this had been dealt with, softened as he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Thank you dear. I means a lot to me"

Yes, the DI was his, and this had to be seen to.

* * *

The weeks went on, and Mycroft started to teach his dearest cop how to properly deal with a crime scene. He showed him the obvious and the implicit, and the Angel of Britain was astonished to discover the extent of the DI's knowledge in certain fields. That is to say, human beings.

Mycroft knew their motives and the way they acted, but he was totally hopeless at actually feeling like them. Of course, he knew how to copy their ways, he was quite brilliant at that (for goodness sake, he was a politician!) but it was all a façade.

Gregory told him it was the fact that he thought so differently that made him so good at deducing people. This man was definitely the only one to see his lack of social skills as a quality.

Their tone of conversation alternated between seductive, admiring, determined for Gregory and explanatory, amused, admiring and blushing for Mycroft.

Mycroft spent hours watching him, every step he made, every breath he took, and his fascination never faltered.

They were building a strong friendship, both hoping it could become something more.

Gregory Lestrade was Mycroft's.

Four months passed, and then, there was Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
